As we again approached the dry bed of the Molopo (which practically forms the boundary-line between the Reserve and the line of surveyed farms fringing the German border), I took several opportunities of penetrating for a few miles into the prohibited area, to where, from a high dune, it is possible to scan the huge expanse of pathless desert stretching eastward, whilst from the rocky kopjes that here and there rise near the ancient river I was once or twice able to overlook it to even better advantage. And as far as the eye could reach, to where sand and sky met in the mirage and shimmer of the horizon, there was nothing but serried lines of enormous dunes, except where, here and there, flat open spaces, glimmering like lakes with the sheen of the mirage, showed the position of some of the larger “pans.” Near many of these, I noted that the sand, reddish or dun-coloured in general, was snow-white; a feature that also struck me was that the position of each of these sand-encircled spaces was invariably marked by the proximity of an exceptionally high dune, towering well above its neighbours. Seen at sunrise this vast expanse presented a most extraordinary appearance, the position of each “pan” being marked by a dense low-lying cloud of mist, which of course dispersed as the sun gained in power. Altogether it was a most fascinating stretch of country, made doubly so by its being forbidden ground, and by repute a region of great mineral wealth.
And abundant evidence was forthcoming that these stories of diamonds in the desert were not without foundation, for in many places along our more leisurely route homewards we came across carbon, garnets, oblivine, and all the usual accompaniments of the precious stones, whilst in more than one instance well-defined “pipes” were pointed out in which “yellow” and “blue” ground—practically identical with that of the Premier Mine—was disclosed in dry watercourses; and there can be no doubt that a very large number of these Kimberlite occurrences await systematic prospecting.
But as we approached Upington again, the few inhabitants we questioned no longer referred to the “Game Reserve” as being the whereabouts of diamonds; instead, they universally spoke of a spot in quite another direction.
As their tale ran, in substance, an enormously rich mine was discovered many years ago in the wild tangle of almost unknown mountains known as the Noup Hills, which lie on the northern bank of the Orange River below the Great Falls and the Molopo, and which few white men have ever penetrated. In the early days of Kimberley, a Hottentot had told his master there that he knew of a place where the diamonds lay thick, and eventually this digger had undertaken the long trek, and after incredible hardships had found the spot and made himself a rich man in an hour or two. But he barely escaped with the diamonds and his life, and so terrible had been his experiences that nothing would induce him to return.
The tale, though differing in detail, was always substantially the same, and whether true or not it is certainly believed in by the bulk of the inhabitants of the southern part of Gordonia, and indeed I have since had abundant reason myself for believing that it has a foundation of fact. Now, some years ago, Brydone, the well-known writer of South African stories, wrote a most thrilling one around this incident, which he published under the title of A Secret of the Orange River, and which gives a most accurate description of the little-known region in question; so accurate, indeed, that the author had certainly either visited the spot himself or taken the description first-hand from one who had.
It has been maintained that the story had no foundation of truth and originated solely in the fertile brain of the writer; but this I can in no wise credit, for there are men in the district who had heard it long before Brydone wrote his book, and indeed who had never heard of the latter.
And in Upington, when we arrived there, an enthusiastic friend of mine declared that he could produce a man who knew the actual spot, and who had long expressed a wish to lead a properly equipped expedition to it.
Unfortunately, this man was not to be found at the time of my return; but even during the few days that I remained in Upington I was able to gather a lot of data that seemed to confirm the story, and my desire to visit the Noup Hills now equalled my longing to enter the Game Reserve.
However, nothing could be done till certain guides were forthcoming and other matters satisfactorily arranged, so, leaving my local friend to hunt up all the information he could about diamonds in either locality, I left Upington for Prieska on New Year’s Day, 1910, consoling myself with the reflection that, though Anderson had led me still another wild-goose chase, it might not have been absolutely in vain.